


Brightness in the Midst of the Blight

by elfgirl931



Series: Senara Amell [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-05 08:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1811779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfgirl931/pseuds/elfgirl931
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short works featuring Alistair and Senara Amell. Mostly prompt fills from Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teamwork

      Alistair loved to see Senara Amell in battle. Her short stature and slight frame caused her enemies to underestimate her, and she particularly loved to fry them all with lightning when they converged on her in a menacing group. She was practically fearless, darting close to groups of enemies that he and Zevran would herd together, freezing them with a great cone of ice, and then darting away again, sometimes even laughing as she ran. She was a master with flinging elemental spells, and it was always a sight to see.

      Alistair also hated seeing Senara Amell in battle.

      He’d tried to convince her time and time again to stay back with Wynne and shoot spells from a distance. Let him take all the hits. Most of the time she’d laugh at him. “What kind of Warden would I be if I stayed back and let you do all the work? Besides, it’s not my style. I like to hit them up close.”

      One day he pushed her too hard, his fear of her getting hurt getting the better of him. Senara was usually pretty lighthearted and mild mannered, but this time she strode right up to him, her head barely reaching his chin, and poked him hard in the chest.

      “We are a team, Alistair,” she said with fury in her voice. “Don’t you dare try to tell me one more time to sit back and let you get hurt. Being a mage and a woman does not make me weak."

      “I never said - “

       She actually shoved at him with both hands, and despite his the fact that he outweighed her by at least twice as much, he stumbled back a step or two. He’d never seen her this angry before.

      “You didn’t have to say it! I won’t let you treat me like some delicate flower!” Her voice started shaking and he was dismayed to see tears standing in her eyes. “You say you want to keep me safe, but what about you? How do you think I feel when you get hurt and I could have helped you?” She angrily dashed the tears off of her cheeks with one hand. “I’m a Gray Warden too, and you can’t take everything on yourself!”

      Alistair stood there stunned at Senara’s outburst. Before he could say anything, she turned around and stomped into her tent, obviously wishing she could slam a door on him but settling for closing the flap very firmly.

      He was about to go after her but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. “Lesson number one, my friend. Always give a woman a bit of time to cool her temper.”

      Alistair glared at Zevran, who removed his hand and beamed back. “How long were you standing there listening?”

      “Long enough, my dear Warden. If I may offer my opinion, our fearless leader does have a point.”

       “All right, I’ll bite. What are you talking about?”

       “She cares for you, and if I may presume to say it, you care for her as well. You must trust one another in battle, and your problems will solve themselves.” Zevran stroked his chin for a moment. “Well, most of them,” he amended. “While the dancing around the two of you are doing is adorable, to an extent, I would say that the time is rapidly approaching where you must declare your feelings for her.”

       Alistair put his hands over his hears. “We are _not_ having this conversation.”

     “Ah, but you blush so prettily when I bring it up! How can I resist?”


	2. A Rainy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair's tent gets flooded in a rainstorm, and he has to seek shelter elsewhere for the night. Fluffy nonsense.

_Rainy nights are the worst_ , Alistair thought, shivering miserably in his armor. Three hours into his watch and the rain had never quite let up, and there was no way to keep a fire going. It wasn’t a downpour, which he supposed he should be thankful for, but rather a light but chilly misting of rain. He sat on a fallen log that he’d dragged under a large tree, but its branches did little to stop the droplets that got just under his shirt collar when the wind blew just right. He looked longingly at his hastily set up tent at the other side of the camp. It wouldn’t be exactly warm, but the canvas would help to keep him dry. _Just one more hour to go._

      It seemed to take ages before Sten came to relieve him. The Qunari nodded to him without a word and took his place on the fallen log, still and implacable as a statue. Alistair shrugged and picked his way across camp to his tent, his boots squelching in the mud. He gingerly stepped out of them just inside his tent, and starting unbuckling the catches on his chest plate. He overbalanced a bit and put one foot in the mess of blankets that he called a bedroll - and his foot squished into an inch of cold water.

      Alistair gave a yelp and pulled his soaking wet sock out of the puddle. He pulled up his sodden blankets and stared in dismay at the giant rip in the canvas floor. It must have caught on a root or a rock during his hasty setup, and now a giant puddle had collected and soaked all of his bedding except the top blanket.

      “Now what am I supposed to do?” he groaned out loud. Now that he looked closer, almost the entire floor of his tent was inundated with water. Alistair poked his head out of his tent to see that the rain showed no sign of letting up. He scanned the camp, wondering desperately if any of his companions would let him bunk with them for the night.

      Wynne and Leliana were already sharing a tent, so that was out. He wouldn’t want to bunk with either of them anyway - with Wynne it would be like sharing a bed with a grandmother, and Leliana would just giggle at him. He didn’t want to ask Sten, who seemed rather possessive of his personal space and didn’t seem to like him anyway. Morrigan was absolutely out of the question. She’d likely turn him into a toad if he even got close to her end of the camp.

        That just left… Alistair gulped when his eyes fell on his fellow Gray Warden’s tent. Senara. The woman he may or may not have been falling in love with. The woman he’d recently given a rose to. If he asked to share her tent, she’d think he was some kind of pervert. It wasn’t as though he had _those_ sorts of intentions, but she probably wouldn’t see it that way. Alistair was just about to see if he could salvage his tent when the rain increased in earnest, prompting a new flood of water to come surging through the rip. He angrily ripped the pegs out of the ground and picked up the whole tent, blankets and all, and carried it to higher ground. where at least it wouldn’t flood any further. He pulled his boots back on, wincing when his wet sock met the inside. He hoisted his pack on his back to keep it dry. _Guess I could stay up all night with Sten_ , he thought glumly, trudging back in that direction.

      “Alistair, what are you doing?” A faint, sleepy voice met his ears. He turned to see Senara poking her head through the tent flap, short brown hair mussed with sleep. “What happened to your tent?”

 

     “Ah, well, it got… ripped,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

      “It got ripped and it ended up in a pile?”

      “Well, long story actually… suffice it to say, I’ll be sleeping outside tonight.”

      “Don’t be ridiculous. You can share mine, come in.” She opened the tent flap a little wider.

     Alistair couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I mean… if you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable, I suppose…” he stammered.

      “Come on, you’re getting soaked,” she gestured impatiently at him, and he obeyed. He hastily stepped out of his boots and stripped his wet socks.

      He hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. “I promise I won’t… you know, do anything, um… inappropriate.” The moment the words left his mouth, he felt even more awkward. _Stupid thing to say, made me sound like even more of a pervert._

      Senara didn’t seem to pick up on his awkwardness, instead fixing him with a small smile. “I know,” she said simply. “I trust you more than anyone.” She busied herself with dividing up blankets on the floor and lighting her small lantern. “Besides, what sort of friend would I be if I left you to suffer in the cold all night? I’ve had tighter quarters than this in the Circle, don’t worry.”

      Alistair busied himself with the rest of his armor, unable to contain the emotions currently spinning through him. _She trusts me more than anyone?_ He hoped he could be worthy of that. _But she called me her friend? I mean I suppose we are friends, but she seems so matter of fact about all this -_

       “Alistair, you’ve been fiddling with your belt for the last two minutes. Is something wrong?”

      “Oh, yes. Well. My hands are cold, I guess,” he invented wildly. The tent suddenly seemed far too small, and she was far too close. His heart threatened to hammer its way out of his chest.

       “Your face is really red,” she said absently, rising to her knees and placing a warm hand on his forehead. “Your skin feels cold, though. I hope you aren’t getting sick. We’ll have to have Wynne look at you in the morning.”

     “P-probably just the rain,” he stammered, fingers fumbling with the catches on his armor. “I was out in it a while.” Once all of his armor was off, Alistair was doubly aware of the way his wet shirt stuck to him, and his teeth started to chatter a little. “Um. I have a change of clothes in my pack. So, I’m going to change now.” _Maker, if I blush anymore I may as well turn into a tomato._

      It was Senara’s turn to blush a little. “Oh. Well, I won’t look.” She turned around but there wasn’t much of anywhere for her to go in the small tent, so she sat down, awkwardly facing the wall.

      Alistair peeled off his wet clothes as fast as he could and focused on keeping his shivering at a minimum. When he got his loose sleeping shirt and breeches on, he immediately felt better and sat down on the blankets, tapping her on the shoulder. “It’s okay to look now,” he said with an attempt at levity.

      She turned around and smiled at him, and the tent seemed too small again. “Well… I guess we should go to sleep, then,” she said quietly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. Her gray eyes glowed in the dim light of the lantern like silver coins. Alistair suddenly ached to smooth her hair, touch her cheek, kiss her, even, but that would break the trust she had put in him by inviting him into her tent in the first place.

      “Yes, we should,” he said in a hushed voice, unable to think of anything clever to say. When she extinguished the lantern, they both lay down, each practically hugging the tent walls in an effort to give one another space, but there were still just inches between them. “Thank you, Senara,” Alistair ventured to say into the darkness.

      The only answer was her quiet breathing, and he thought that she had fallen asleep already, but then she put her hand in his and gave it a small squeeze. Alistair stayed lying awake in the little tent, the only sound Senera’s breathing and the patter of rain on canvas. It was a long while before his hand where she’d held it stopped feeling warm, and longer still before he was able to still his heart and fall asleep.


	3. Something to Say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Senara and Alistair are at odds again, over the same thing as always. Wynne patches Senara up and offers some advice.

      “Hold still. The more you squirm the longer this will take,” Wynne huffed irritably, losing her concentration for the third time.

      “It itches,” Senara muttered, but did her best to hold still. It was difficult not to want to sit up, or move her head, or roll over, when she was stretched out on her stomach wearing nothing but her smalls. The walls of the tent seemed to press in on her, and she wanted nothing more than for Wynne to be done healing the cut on her back so that she could be outside in the fresh air again.

     It was so _stupid_. It should never have happened. Senara buried her face in her arms as Wynne began to slather a strong smelling balm across her back, trying not to think about what had happened that morning, but it was no use. Alistair had been yelling at her to stay back, as usual, but she’d ignored him, as usual, and charged straight ahead at the group of genlocks. She’d performed her usual freezing spell on them and tried to run immediately after, to give the others room to chop away with their swords and daggers. But a clawed hand had burst straight through the earth at her feet and grabbed at her ankle, bringing her down. She had rolled aside immediately, which saved her life, but the genlock’s sword had still managed to cut a long, shallow slice across her back.

      And now she was stuck in the tent, for privacy, Wynne said, but Senara suspected that it might be to keep her and Alistair apart. He’d hacked the darkspawn to bits with more ferocity than usual after she’d gone down. When he’d been assured that she would not die of blood loss, he’d gone red in the face and started _shouting_ at her for not listening to him and nearly getting herself killed. Despite her injury, Senara had shouted back until Wynne had firmly bustled her back to camp and into the tent after telling Alistair in no uncertain terms not to open his mouth again until he’d cooled off.

      Now Senara sighed as she sat up to let Wynne finish bandaging her. She knew that Alistair was probably right, but her deeply buried stubborn streak refused to admit it.

      “May I offer you some advice?” Wynne asked softly, breaking into her patient’s brooding.

      “Of course,” Senara answered in surprise. The older mage had barely spoken the entire time they’d been in the tent except to give instructions (and admonish her patient to be still).

      “I know that Alistair acted badly, and he absolutely owes you an apology. But you must understand that people can act extremely stupid when they’re afraid they might lose someone important to them.” She stood and gathered her healing kit and Senara’s bloodstained robes. “The two of you must be more careful with your feelings. Alistair is a good boy, but he’s very stubborn. And so are you,” she added with a smile as she left the tent.

       Senara stood up slowly and pulled a loose white shirt and an old pair of leggings out of her pack. She didn’t much feel like putting on her old set of robes at the moment, and she also suddenly didn’t feel like going outside. The tent flap rustled behind her as she was putting the shirt on.

      “Did you forget something, Wynne?” she asked absently. When she turned around, a small “oh,” escaped her.

      Alistair practically filled the opening of the tent. He’d taken his armor off and had clearly dipped his head in a bucket, if the water clinging to his ears was any indication. He wore an inscrutable expression on his face. And he stood there, just staring at her.

      “I guess you have something to say about this?” Senara said finally, gesturing at herself.

      He still didn’t say anything, only took the few steps across the tent to close the distance between them. She looked up at him stubbornly, steeling herself for more yelling, when he surprised her. His arms wrapped around her, enfolding her in a practical wall of muscle and gently pressing her body close to his.

       “Only that I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

       Senera barely registered his words - she was more than a little distracted by the warmth and strength of his arms. She’d always known that he was tall, but she’d never stood close enough to him to know that he was more than a head taller than she was. Or that he smelled like something warm and masculine. Or that being held like this would make her heart pound out of her chest.

      “I’m sorry,” he said again, and he was actually shaking a little. “I’ve never shouted at anyone like that before.” He let her go, and Senara prayed that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “I was just… I was so afraid. There was so much blood, and you weren’t - “

       “Alistair, it’s all right,” she interrupted him. “I understand. We’ve argued about this before, and you’re right. I should be more careful, and I will. As long as you trust me a little more.”

      “I can do that.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “So… you don’t think I’m a giant idiot?”

      “Well, I do think you’re a giant idiot,” she smirked. “But I also think you can make it up to me.”

      “I’m afraid to ask.”

      “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know when I think of it. Come on,” she said. Before they left the tent, she boldly stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. He followed her out, blushing and grinning like a fool.


	4. A Cure for Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair feels sad after his meeting with Goldanna, and Senara cheers him up in a surprising way.

      Alistair sat staring gloomily into the campfire, deaf to his companions’ banter. His mind was back in Denerim, inside a dingy little house, reliving Goldanna’s words over and over again. He didn’t want to admit how much of a blow her rejection had been, especially after the way Senara had stood up for him and tried to comfort him afterwards. It was worse than a slap in the face, going and expecting to have a happy reunion with his only living family, and then the whole thing devolving into a shouting match. Mostly between Senara and Goldanna. Alistair had to chuckle to himself a little when he thought of the way Senara had defended him, when she was usually so reserved and level-headed.

      He was jarred back to the present when he heard Senara laughing on the other side of the campfire. Leliana had brough her lute out and was making up verses as she played. Zevran was interjecting dirty phrases in place of her words, then looking innocent when she glared at him. Wynne scolded him, telling him to let Leliana sing in peace, to which he turned a very wounded look. Senara was giggling so hard that she was gasping for air, and that alone lifted Alistair’s heart a bit.

     _She was right_ , he thought to himself. _This is my family now, no matter how strange of a group we make._

       As the night wore on, Leliana kept playing her lute and Zevran produced a few bottles of wine from somewhere (“I assure you, my dear, they were purchased fairly and not stolen,”) and passed it around, lamenting that they’d have to drink it out of their tin camp cups. Alistair felt a little better after drinking some, but couldn’t shake his gloomy feelings off completely.

      “Wipe that frown off of your face, I’ve got something for you,” said a  voice in his ear. Alistair nearly spilled his wine when he turned his head and saw that Senara was standing right behind him, her lips practically touching his ear. She put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself, and he saw that her cheeks were flushed a little with the wine, and her gray eyes were sparkling with excitement. She plunked herself down next to him and pulled a small brown paper package out from behind her back, placing it in his hand.

       “Is this for me?” he asked hesitantly, scarcely able to believe it.

       “Who else would it be for?” she asked playfully. “Hurry and open it.”

       Alistair suddenly felt like his hands were six sizes too big and blunt as clubs. He knew his face was turning red, but he couldn’t help it. Senara was actually giving him a present. People didn’t just give him presents. With some difficulty he managed to rip the brown paper wrapping and find wax paper tied with string, and inside that sat three small wedges of cheese. One was a rich, buttery yellow, the second was pale with small blue flecks in it, and the third was a paler yellow.

       “It’s cheese,” Senara pointed out helpfully after a small hiccup. “I bought it in the market today when you weren’t looking.”

       “It’s… I mean… wow. How did you know how much I like cheese?”

       “Please, Alistair. You’ve mentioned your unholy love of cheese to me about a dozen times,” she laughed. “Besides, I know today was rough for you. I know it’s not much, but I figured with how much you like it, a few slices should be enough to cure your sorrows.”

      “Ah, yes. Of course. Cheese is a cure for everything,” he joked, but then surprised even himself by taking her hand. “Senara… thank you. Not just for the cheese, which is amazing, but for what you did today. Standing up for me, and being there for me, and everything.”

      “Of course,” she murmured, squeezing his hand and blushing a little. “I just couldn’t stand to see you sad. And I meant what I said, too. Your sister might not want you around, but I’m there for you.”

      Anything Alistair might have said then was interrupted by Leliana shouting. “You take that back, you miserable Antivan!”

      “I merely said -“

      “I don’t want to hear it again!”

      “Now, the two of you need to -” Wynne tried to interject, but was drowned out by Thor, who whined mournfully and then began to howl at the top of his mabari lungs.

     “I’d better go calm everyone down,” Senara said ruefully, standing up and letting his hand drop. “Enjoy your cheese.”

       Alistair watched her across the campfire as she marched over to break up whatever had started between the two assassins. _She really knows me_ , he thought. _She listens to me. I’ve got to give her that rose tomorrow, before I lose my nerve. I need her to know how much she means to me._

For now, though, he tucked into his delicious cheese and watched in amusement as Senara and Wynne corralled their merry band back into some semblance of order.


	5. Breaking the Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Blight is over and Senara is back from Amaranthine, Alistair asks her a question.

     “… Will I _what_?” Senara asked in confusion.

      “Marry me,” Alistair repeated nervously, shifting his weight where he knelt on one knee. “You know, where we say vows in front of the Maker and we - “

      “I _know_ what getting married means, Alistair. It’s just… I never thought it would happen to me. Mages aren’t allowed to get married.”

       “Well, you’re not really a Circle Mage anymore. Besides, Gray Wardens don’t exactly get married either. I mean… I love you whether we’re married or not. I want to be with you whether we’re married or not. It’s just….” He trailed off and looked down at her hands cradled in his.

      Senara smiled down at him. She loved it when his voice became soft and earnest. “Is there a rule against it?”

       His head shot back up, hope flooding his features again. “Not exactly. But if there were a rule I’d break it for you.”

     Senara pulled him to his feet. “Next town we pass through, we’ll go to a Chantry and have one of the Mothers perform a service for us. They won’t be able to say no to the Warden Commander.”

      “So… that’s a yes, then?”

      “Of course, you silly man. Did you think I’d say no, after all that we’ve been through together?”

      For an answer, Alistair grinned and swept her up in his arms, spinning her in a circle and laughing. When her feet touched the ground again, he drew her close and kissed her soundly. Gone were the days of shy, awkward fumbling and tentative touches of lips - now he pressed her firmly against his chest with both hands threaded in her hair, moving his lips slowly and lovingly over hers.

     After a few minutes, Senara broke away and fixed him with a mischievous look. “Know what would really be breaking the rules?” She leaned close and whispered, “Celebrating our engagement in one of the castle closets.”


	6. Blushing Over Strawberries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair learns that even the littlest thing can be distracting when it comes to a certain mage

       Alistair thought that he was probably going mad. It didn’t make any sense to be… distracted by someone’s eating habits, and yet here he was, sitting on a log and practically _panting_ over the way Senara ate strawberries.

       Initially he’d been overjoyed when she and Morrigan had returned from foraging in the woods to announce that they’d found an enormous patch of wild strawberries, and he’d eagerly gone to help gather them. It wasn’t every day that their little group got to eat such nice things on the road. Zevran had disappeared as soon as he’d heard the word “strawberries,” and returned later with a large bowl of cream with a cloth over it.

      “I did not _steal_ it, dear one,” he’d exclaimed when Senara questioned him, placing a hand over his heart. “Indeed, you wound me! I went back to the farm we passed not a mile ago and bought it quite fairly from the illustrious farmwife residing there. One cannot have strawberries without cream, you know. I did not carry this bowl for a mile, being ever so careful not to spill it, to be accused of - “

      “ _Thank_ you, Zevran, but we really need to get this on ice before it turns into a bowl of white slop.”

      Once she’d conjured a sizable block of ice to hold the bowl of cream and set the basket of strawberries next to it, it seemed they were in for a nice night, for once. Even Sten didn’t look as severe as he usually did, and seemed to relish the cream in particular. Alistair piled strawberries onto his tin plate, preparing to tuck in with the rest of them, but he happened to look at Senara across their little circle before he could eat one. And that’s when his problems had begun.

      She’d dipped one of her strawberries into the bowl of cream, swirling it just so and then brought it to her lips, which were already stained red from the fruit. Alistair found that he couldn’t take his eyes off them. She placed the whole strawberry in her mouth and held it there for a second before biting down.

 _It’s all very well to tease her about licking lampposts in winter, but quite another to actually imagine… that. With her. Maker._ And these thoughts were brought on by watching her eat, what was _wrong_ with him? He could feel his face going red, and he abruptly stuffed several whole strawberries into his mouth to hide it.

       “Alistair, you know you’re eating the stems, don’t you?” Leliana asked with concern in her voice. “Are you all right?”

      He realized with a sinking feeling that he had indeed forgotten to bite the stems off like everyone else was doing, but couldn’t very well spit them out now. He chewed and swallowed the whole mess and then smiled weakly. “Um. Yes, I… like them, actually.” He risked another glance at Senara, who thankfully hadn’t noticed what he’d just done.

      Unfortunately, Leliana followed his gaze with her own eyes, and a sly smile lit up her face. “Strawberries are a lovely food, are they not?” she said. “Especially when eaten in such a… _sweet_ manner.” She popped one into her own mouth, the picture of innocence. “Oh Alistair, your face is so red, whatever is the matter?”

      He practically choked. “I’m _fine_!” he said loudly. Too loudly. Everyone around the campfire looked at him in confusion, including Senara. But she was soon distracted by Zevran, who leaned over to whisper something into her ear. She blushed and laughed at him, giving him a good-natured shove with her shoulder.  Alistair was surprised at the level of red hot jealousy that bubbled up inside of him at the sight. He’d never particularly liked the way that the assassin flirted with Senara, but he always assumed it was just his way - Zevran flirted with everything that moved.

        Alistair was just beginning to consider standing up and seating himself between them, damn his manners, when Senara dipped another strawberry into the bowl. Before she could bring it to her lips, a small blob of cream fell off of it and landed on her other hand. She shrugged at Zevran’s laughter and put her finger in her mouth to suck it clean. A spike of heat went rocketing through Alistair’s body and his mouth dropped open. _Maker, why does she have to look like that when all she’s doing is **eating**?_

       He stood up suddenly, sending his plate of strawberries flying and scattering over the ground. “I’m tired and I think I’m going to bed,” he blurted. His voice sounded too loud and he felt like his feet had suddenly grown ten sizes as he stumbled away from the campfire and into his tent. Needless to say, Alistair had a lot of trouble falling asleep that night.


End file.
